Jester and Scarecrow will be gay for each other
by clawmachines
Summary: I changed the story so that they could have a more reasonable chance together. Pretty much a casual "what-if" that started to turn more serious? Let's see where this goes. All I know so far is that they're going to be super gay at one point. Rated M for language and sex stuff. OH and this is for Legends of Oz: Dorothy's Return ! It needs its own category...
1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in the merry old land of Oz, three friends were being tortured by a villainous jester. With their newfound brain, heart, and spine, Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion had dedicated their lives to fighting crime and the forces of evil – a dedication that would have continued had they not been caught. Granted, they were caught on purpose, but didn't realize how it would effect them in the long run. You know what? Just go ahead and watch the movie if you haven't already, this is too much to explain.

Ok, so. Since Lion and Tin Man were pretty much knocked out and possibly almost dead (from starvation and extreme rust, respectively), Scarecrow was all alone in the torture chamber. His punishment wasn't really that bad. He could have been on a spit over an open flame. Instead he was cuffed to a wheel with a ring of fire around it. I don't think the flames were close enough to be hot, let alone set him on fire. So he was mainly dizzy from spinning back and forth for a long time.

Maybe his true torture was seeing his two friends growing fainter and weaker as they wasted away. Yes, that must be it. Now I regret saying that his torture wasn't that bad.

I'm getting off track here. This story was meant to be somewhat plausible. Maybe instead of acknowledging that Jester is out to hurt _all_ of Dorothy's friends, we can pretend that it's been Jester and Scarecrow this whole time. Yes, that sounds good. Now Tin Man and Lion are safe, and Jester has captured only Scarecrow, who is, in this version, still cuffed to the wheel. But what is Jester's motivation?

Oh, I know – he thinks that Dorothy and Scarecrow have a thing for each other, so he's convinced that by having Scarecrow, Dorothy will become more determined to get to the castle quickly, and it would also save the work of setting up three separate forms of torture. Jester seems to be an impatient and therefore efficient person, so I'd say it makes sense.

Alright. Now that that's sorted out, let's start over.

* * *

Once upon a time, Scarecrow was being tortured by a villainous jester. Normally, Scarecrow would be in the company of his two friends Tin Man and Lion, but they had been spared, as Jester felt that they were unnecessary for his plan of luring the witch-slayer Dorothy to his castle. He had reason to believe that Dorothy and the Scarecrow had certain … feelings for each other. It would be simple to manipulate her with the idea of being reunited with her hay-bale of a boyfriend.

"Having fun, straw man?" Jester asked as he entered the torture chamber via unicycle. He circled the Scarecrow's spinning torture wheel, the faint squeaking of the unicycle's pedals echoing across the room.

Scarecrow had tried to make a snarky reply, but he was too focused on his aching head – a result of spinning around all day. Having a brain was usually the most wonderful thing Scarecrow could think of, and now he would gladly get rid of it to stop his monstrous headache. Yet, he couldn't help but ponder: would removing his brain really end the pain? Considering pain is created by the brain, it sounded probable, but he wasn't sure how he could experience pain at all, seeing as he didn't have any of the proper body parts that could transmit that information to his brain. Or did he? Scarecrow realized that he had never dissected himself before (and wouldn't be willing to, no matter how much he could learn). Was it possible that his muscle tissue had been replaced with straw, and everything else was built the way a human would be? But even then, could he move? And how would the replacing of muscle have happened? Does any of this matter? Why are we here? What is the meaning of –

"EXCUSE ME," Jester screamed into Scarecrow's … ear? "I asked you a question," he said sweetly. Jester jumped off of his unicycle and kicked it at a lever. The lever shifted, stopping the wheel's turn. For Scarecrow, the sudden halt felt worse than the constant turning. His body felt like it was drifting diagonally both away from and towards his head, and his eyes refused to focus. It looked like there were seven Jesters staring in front of him. He couldn't hold it in anymore.

Jester shrieked in horror at Scarecrow's sudden lurching shudder, and heard the sick hit the floor. ...It was oddly muted. As Scarecrow shivered with disgust, Jester peeked at the floor through trembling fingers. His face switched immediately to cheerfulness and he let out a high laugh.

"Really? You vomit hay?" He laughed again and stepped on the hay to hear the dry crunch. "Oh, wow, what a relief! I thought I'd have to chop you up for ruining the floor!" He grinned, then suddenly bellowed ferociously. "YOU!" A flying monkey with a purple mohawk darted into the room. "Clean this up." The monkey casually saluted and picked up the hay, flying out of sight. "Given this turn of events, I suppose I will forgive you for not answering me earlier." Jester leapt nimbly to the top of the wheel, trying his best to balance as it rocked slightly beneath his weight. "Feel better now?"

Scarecrow's head had finally cleared. He decided against ignoring Jester, given his nonchalant threat to chop Scarecrow into pieces, and answered, "Yes, I do. A little."

Jester beamed and somersaulted off of the wheel, now facing Scarecrow. "How marvelous!" Jester took a few bouncing steps forward and laid his head on his victim's shoulder with a sigh. "It really would be a shame to kill you. But I can't say I wouldn't enjoy a nice hay-stuffed mattress!" Jester patted Scarecrow's chest for emphasis. He then skipped to his discarded unicycle and continued to ride it around the chamber.

The mattress comment gave Scarecrow an unexpected sense of anger, and the rush of adrenaline gave him clarity, bravery, and admittedly, some stupidity. As a result, he went against his better judgement and faced his fear of invoking his captor's wrath. "It's not the first time someone has said that to me, Jester," he started. When Jester stopped in his tracks, he continued. "The Wicked Witch of the West made that very same threat years ago." At the mention of his sister's title, Jester's shoulders tensed, and Scarecrow felt his spirit lift at the sight, as if he had made a minor victory though the reaction.

Jester stepped off of the unicycle and laid it down gently. He turned, and to Scarecrow's confusion, a look of exhilaration was spread across his face. "Go ahead and say it, Scarecrow: 'You and your sister are more alike than I realized.'" He cocked his head like an innocent puppy. "That is what you were going to say, isn't it?"

Scarecrow's feeling of triumph had diminished, and he hesitated before replying, "Well... something along those lines." Jester put a finger to his chin and nodded solemnly.

"M-hm, m-hm. Very interesting."

"...Uh... What's... interesting?" Jester's composure was like the quiet before the storm. It took a lot for Scarecrow to keep his voice from shaking.

Jester made his way over to Scarecrow, taking long steps with his hands behind his back. "Merely that you thought... Oh, I don't know. That you were winning for a second there." He smirked with dancing eyes and came to a stop in front of Scarecrow. Jester snapped his fingers, which signaled a flying monkey to bring him his staff – a magic wand made from combining his sister's broomstick and a mysterious orb. Never taking his eyes off of Scarecrow, he smacked the end of the staff into his palm, his face souring. In a flash, he whipped the staff to Scarecrow's neck, the orb glowing maliciously with its power. "I AM IN CONTROL, HERE, PAL," Jester roared, pushing the orb against Scarecrow, who started quaking horribly as he stared unblinkingly at Jester. Jester's expression was venomous when he quietly asked, "You got that?"

Clenching his eyes shut, Scarecrow nodded firmly. When he could still feel the orb's pulsation, he peeked one eye open and saw Jester squinting at him impatiently. "Y—Yes, yes, I understand, I got it," Scarecrow stuttered.

Finally pleased, Jester brought the staff back down. "Good!" he said with a sugary grin. "Alright, I'm outta here. I have to go spy on your friends and whatnot." He waved with a "bye-eee!" and hopped on his staff. When it wouldn't fly he slapped it with a disgruntled mutter until it sped off towards another room in the castle.

Scarecrow was still trembling from shock, his breathing unsteady and his limbs feeling more limp than usual. A good five minutes passed before he was able to take decent breaths and calm himself down.

"What a wack job," he thought, and though he had already known it, he was still overwhelmed by how completely unpredictable Jester could be.

The room's emptiness loomed over Scarecrow. Now that he wasn't spinning on the wheel, he could see just how blank and dreary it was around him. All that decorated the place were some hanging masks spaced evenly along the walls, and goodness knows masks can be creepy as all get out. Scarecrow focused on the floor in front of him instead.

One may ask, if Scarecrow is very smart, wouldn't he have thought of a way out of this situation? Yes and no. Unfortunately, he had already tried his plans to no avail. His strength was nowhere near the force necessary to break the cuffs attaching him to the wheel. Even if he did detach himself, the flames skirting the wheel as he spun would keep him from moving forward without injury. He had even attempted to tear his body by biting his shoulder and tugging while his hand clamped to its cuff. Again, he simply wasn't strong enough. It was all very depressing. He hoped to see Dorothy, Tin Man, and Lion again soon, but he was afraid for them; obviously, the Jester had planned for them to come to Scarecrow's aid. He didn't want to think about what Jester would do once they were all in his grasp.

Scarecrow shut his eyes and let out a long breath. He had something else on his mind. But what? It was an odd and uncomfortable feeling, one he had hoped to be fleeting, and it nagged at him to address it properly.

Excitement.

He had felt the excitement of surprise or happiness before. It was not a new sensation. But in this instance, it was not what would be considered an everyday reaction; what had excited him was the Jester. Specifically, the way the Jester had spoken to him, how he had been demanding and threatening – his frightening dominance both shocked and captivated Scarecrow.

Little did he know, that was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **_While I am flattered that the people who have reviewed are very happy to hear more from this story, please know that I cannot respond to you when you are making an anonymous review. If you wish to hear from me before I post a new chapter (as it is against the rules to make a chapter which is only an author's note), you'll have to make an account to PM me with._

_Furthermore, I am a busy person who can't always put time aside to write. Badgering me to write the next chapter quickly will Not cause me to write it sooner. As for your requests, I apologize, but I will be sticking to my own ideas for this story._

_Thanks for your interest, and here's part two!_

* * *

Jester was up in his tower, poring over his crystal ball (well... his sister's crystal ball). He flicked the glass, trying to get something, anything to appear inside of it – he hadn't really figured out how to use it yet, which he would never admit. What seemed to work best was staring at it unblinkingly and demanding the orb to show him what he wanted to see. He didn't quite have the attention span for that, though, so he usually resorted to shouting at it.

"C'mon! Stupid thing! Show me something important!" He pressed his face against the glass. "I don't care what, just make it good, I need info on these jerks!" The crystal ball refused to cooperate. "GGGH! Ok, alright, uh..." Jester drummed his fingers on the top of the ball. "Please," he said nicely, "Please let me see the girl and her... um... her... favorite minions?"

He hoped that "favorite minions" was an acceptable substitute for "friend," a word he didn't find applicable. One could say he was a tragic villain, whose heart was too broken to be able to utter a word so evocative of happiness. But that's not right, he had spoken the word "friend" before. In this story, actually. Anyway, he didn't use this word for Dorothy, Tin Man and Lion because he just didn't think Dorothy was friends with those other people. In his mind, Dorothy was a selfish liar who used people by making them think she was on their side. She had killed his sister, and really, the Wicked Witch of the West was all Jester had. Yes, his sister was frightful and spitefully made him a clown. That didn't mean he wanted her dead.

He shook his head, trying to keep this rambling narrative from stopping his concentration on the orb. It kept going against his will. The last thing that he (subconsciously) wanted to make clear was that he was better than Dorothy simply because he was honest about his intentions. At least he announced his innate wickedness to everyone. At least he didn't pretend to be angelic. And at least he – wait! The orb is showing something.

The crystal had gleamed brighter and brighter throughout Jester's inner dialogue. It seemed that the source of its power was angst. To his surprise, he had caused them to fall over a waterfall. He must have unconsciously chanted a spell while he mentally reviewed his past. Jester danced around, clicking his heels. Following their crash, the orb had shown him so many helpful things: the death of China princess (actually, who cares?), the fight between Dorothy and the others (good, good), and most importantly, the fact that she made everyone, including Tin Man and Lion, stay behind while she went forward alone.

Perfect. This makes everything so much easier, the Jester thought to himself with glee. Now all he needed was a big net to trap her in. Or maybe a giant pendulum blade to surprise her with as she walked through the door. A net would be better, though. It's not very fun to kill someone instantly, because then there's no chance to tell them how much they suck.

Meanwhile, still on a wheel, was Scarecrow, replaying the night's events in his head (as he had been for the entire time Jester was up in the tower). He couldn't believe himself! This joker is completely despicable. How could he be so attracted to him?

Every gust of wind whistling through the spaces in the castle's stone, every crumble of gravel beneath the feet of Ozian vermin made Scarecrow whip his head around, trying to get a sight – is it Jester? Is he back? Nope. So each time, he would scold himself for wanting to see the Obvious Bad Guy again. If anyone, it's Dorothy and the gang he should be searching for when he hears a noise. Just embarrassing. Absolutely embarrassing.

When he heard a faint squeaking, he told himself to calm down, it couldn't be the Jester's unicycle. No, really, it couldn't. He had left it on the floor earlier, it was within Scarecrow's line of vision. When he heard a tap dance-like stepping around him, he told himself to quit dreaming, it couldn't be the Jester's feet. Again, he was right, it was just a bunch of Oz rats practicing for a show. They were the ones squeaking before, he figured. When he heard giggling behind him, he told himself, wow, you need to get some sleep, because rats certainly don't giggle, even if they're Ozian rats. This time he was right again. He screeched like a pterodactyl when Jester appeared upside-down right in front of Scarecrow's face.

Jester hopped off of his broomstick, laughing so hard that his guffaws were silent. For anyone who has never laughed that hard, please know that it looks ridiculous. Scarecrow was hyperventilating.

"Don't... Do... That," Scarecrow said through ragged breaths.

"Wet blanket," Jester replied, pressing his ear to Scarecrow's chest to hear his heart pound. Wait. Heart? Better not question it. "Beautiful! Now that you're wide awake, let's talk."

Scarecrow let out a huge sigh, effectively calming himself down. He had been so shocked that he didn't have time to appreciate seeing Jester again. He wants to... talk? "About what?"

"YOU!"

Scarecrow opened his mouth to stammer but stopped when the flying monkey from before sped in immediately. Jester demanded a chair, which the monkey brought from the other side of the room. Then the monkey was dismissed. The Jester sat on the cushioned seat with crossed legs. He recrossed them. Then he put his feet on the chair and rested his chin on his knees. Then he scoffed and turned the chair around to sit backwards on it. There.

"Okie-dokie. We are going to talk about you. NOT – no, not _you_, go away," he said as the purple-mohawked monkey peeked from behind a wall. "Shoo. Go." The monkey left. He turned back to look at Scarecrow, who was unsure if he should stammer or not.

"Oh – uh – ?" was all Scarecrow could manage. The things rushing through his mind were pretty sensual. His first thoughts involved Jester quizzing him and … rewarding him for right answers. Or better, punishing him for wrong answers. He blushed at the thought of Jester slapping him across the face for not knowing the square footage of the Emerald City. Ooh.

Jester cocked an eyebrow at Scarecrow's loopy smile. Maybe he needs to give him some fresh air somehow. He looks a bit flushed. Is he sick? Oh well. "Yyyeah... So. First off, I want to let you know that your pig-tailed queen is on her way, and she left everyone else to die alone." He beamed. "Also, she killed a porcelain princess and didn't do anything to try and save her. I was checking out my crystal ball, and get this – some big puffy guy ripped himself apart to glue her back together! Ew!" His face was alight with unbridled joy, waiting for a reaction from Scarecrow. After awhile, Scarecrow stirred out of his fantasy.

"Sorry, what?"

Jester pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Dorothy's coming and everyone else is going to die," he recapped flatly. Scarecrow gaped, lost for words. "Yep, she left them all behind! She should be here within a day or so. But, enough about that. Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" he said in a sing-song voice, batting his eyelashes at Scarecrow.

Jester's feminine wiles were distracting but easy to overcome when it concerned Scarecrow's friends. "H-How do I know you're not lying? About Dorothy, and the others?"

"What! Why in the world would I lie? I prefer to hurt people with the truth. It's more rewarding."

"You don't expect me to believe that, do –"I do, I do! We can't change it anyway, might as well move on! Come now, let's have a fun chat!"

Scarecrow was appalled. He glared at Jester as hard as he could possibly glare.

"Oh, please." Jester stood and stomped on the end of his broomstick, causing it to flip up and into his hand. He smacked the end onto the ground before him, causing a thick smoke to stir around the two of them. "THE LAST FIVE MINUTES YOU HAVE FORGOT, EXCEPT FOR THINKING THAT I'M HOT!" The smoke sucked back into the staff and Scarecrow blinked dazedly. Yes. Jester had figured it out. And he liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

That's what Jester had wanted to do, anyway. But the orb didn't have the power to erase memories – even witchcraft wasn't that powerful. Or was it? Who knows for sure. Either way, that's how it's going for this story.

Jester stood with the staff in front of him, watching the smoke suck back into it. It sputtered out in lightening-infused puffs. He knocked it on the ground and shook it, glancing from the staff to Scarecrow with a befuddled expression.

You can imagine that, since the orb didn't have the power to erase memories, it was very awkward for Jester to shout those words aloud.

Scarecrow's coloring (assuming his face could shift color) was going from a grim green to a rosy red. He had been found out. Besides being overwhelmed by his unfathomable embarrassment, at the same time he couldn't help thinking, wasn't he supposed to have forgotten everything Jester and he had just talked about? It was all perfectly clear. No skips in information. Scarecrow was smart enough to assume that the orb didn't have the power to erase memories, something that had been written three times already.

Jester waved the smoke away impatiently, deciding to ignore the fact that the staff had never reacted like that before. Probably just a fluke, he thought to himself. To be fair, he didn't know any better – about the limits of magic, that is – seeing as it wasn't written down anywhere.

When the Jester leaned on his staff and smiled expectantly at him, Scarecrow's mind became alight with the possibilities of where this could go. Let's list a few.

1. Scarecrow flat-out says that the spell didn't work.

1a. Jester becomes angry, tries another spell

1b. Jester becomes embarrassed, leaves in a huff

2. Scarecrow awkwardly yet politely says that the spell didn't work.

2a. Jester hems and haws and apologizes half-heartedly.

2b. Jester laughs and starts a humorous conversation about the rules of witchcraft.

Who was he kidding. The Jester is much too unpredictable for even Scarecrow to, well, predict. He might as well just pretend the spell worked.

Wait. Yes.

"So... Where were we?" Jester said smoothly, leaning forward on his staff with his chin rested on one of his palms.

"Gosh, uh... um, well... I don't remember, really," Scarecrow said in what he hoped was a convincingly confused tone. Jester's toothy grin was practically shining. Trying to keep up the part, Scarecrow raised an eyebrow and grimaced. "When did you get in here, exactly?"

"Not important. What's been... on your mind?"

The way Jester was lazily shifting his weight was making Scarecrow blush. He thinks he's so attractive, Scarecrow thought bitterly. Look at him swinging his hips... Slowly, back and forth. Hips rolling forward slightly when he looks me over. What a jerk. ...God he's hot.

"N-Nothing. Total blank."

"You're sure? Absolutely?" Jester delicately whetted his lips. His tongue stroked along his teeth as his eyes dipped down Scarecrow's body.

"A-A-... Absolutely," he breathed with a shiver.

Jester smirked and once again raised his staff in the air. "SCARECROW'S LIES ARE QUITE UNCOUTH, FROM HIS MOUTH LET FLOW THE TRUTH!" Smoke billowed from the orb, bright as fire. It wrapped around Scarecrow, slithering down his mouth wherein it disappeared.

Scarecrow coughed small clouds of smoke as he looked at the Jester fearfully. He really, REALLY hoped that this spell was a dud, too.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't.

Scarecrow knew that right away. He could feel secrets bubbling up inside of him like lava, dying to spill out for the entirety of Oz to hear. It was all he could do to concentrate on keeping his mouth shut and his teeth clamped on his tongue.

Jester waltzed around the wheel gaily. "I will ask again," he said in a sing-song voice. "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" His eyelashes batted like there was no tomorrow.

It's not his fault, the poor thing – Scarecrow just couldn't hold anything back. It was as if the question had floated over to his jaw and forced it open, letting the sound escape like air from a balloon, but, you know, a voice, not a hissy squeaky sound.

"I-I'm thinking about not telling you what I'm thinking about!" he said truthfully.

Jester scoffed and stamped his foot. "That's cheating! TELL ME!"

"I... I," Scarecrow tried so hard to stop his mouth from moving, but he had no power over the spell. How upsetting. "I... was thinking... about..." You can't win, Scarecrow. Stop trying. "About... You... and..." Oh, come now, there's no reason to choke out your words. Just say it. "Y-You and... me?" There you go, good start.

"And what, pray tell, were we doing?"

Scarecrow was trembling. He hated the spell, oh, how he hated it!

"We were... kissing." His voice shook horribly.

"...Is that all?"

"No."

Jester had made his way up to Scarecrow as they spoke. He had pulled with him the chair the flying monkey had brought earlier. Jester set down the chair and climbed up it so he and Scarecrow were face-to-face, Jester's lidded eyes boring into Scarecrow's, whose eyes were going from wide-eyed fright to drooping, enamored pools. Jester leaned in close, his lips inches away from Scarecrow's, and his finger traced down the piping on Scarecrow's jacket down to his hips, where it idly snaked to the crotch of his pants, going along the seam with a single, dragging stroke.

"Were we fucking?" he asked, voice low, with a hint of dark curiosity.

Scarecrow could only whisper "yes." He moved his neck forward and pressed his lips to Jester's, who let out a small chuckle. The hand that wasn't hovering at Scarecrow's crotch went up to his neck to deepen the kiss. Jester whisked his thumb across Scarecrow's pant seam, causing him to gasp, his mouth agape just long enough for the Jester to insert his tongue and explore. Honestly, it felt sort of odd. Kind of scratchy from the burlap. But it was pleasant in a way. Jester's tongue stroked at Scarecrow's, pushing in and out of his mouth sensually. Each thrust made Scarecrow groan in lust. He wished he was off of the wheel. It would make this much easier. On the other hand, it was exciting to think of how much control Jester had over his body with it stuck this way, and boy, was he abusing it.

Before we go on, let's talk a bit about Scarecrow's anatomy. He didn't have anything down there. He had checked. But he had noticed something odd. When the seams of his clothes were touched, it was much more sensitive than other parts of his clothes. It was as if the sensations were derived from the cloth itself, and not inherently inside of his straw-made body. The most sensitive seam was the one where a human's genitals were. Why, he did not know, but he'd be damned if it didn't feel good. He hadn't had much alone time to experiment with it, being ruler of Oz and all. Otherwise he would have learned everything possible about it. Instead he had resorted to "winding down" on one of the vibrating massage chairs they had in the Emerald City's specialty stores. It was nice, but not exactly satisfying, as he was always called away from the spot to sign something, or go to a meeting, or cure a disease. Scarecrow hoped to God that today would be the day that he'd learn much, much more about the feeling (for strictly scientific reasons, mind you).

Jester broke the kiss and rested his thumb and forefinger right along Scarecrow's seam, and to Jester's amusement, Scarecrow had started to curve his hips back, trying to recreate Jester's earlier dragging stroke. In response, Jester pulled his hand away just to see Scarecrow's face drop in disappointment.

"What do you want me to do?" Jester asked, his face breaking into a grin, eyes sparkling with the sheer fun he was having.

"Fuck me," Scarecrow said against his will. "Please, please fuck me." He looked absolutely humiliated.

"Ooh, saucy! Straight to the point!" Jester shrieked with laughter. "I guess I should thank myself for that. Thank you, me, for choosing such an entertaining spell! Oh, don't mention it, me." He smiled. "So you want me to fuck you."

"Yes, God, yes," he said, eyes shut, as if not seeing anything would keep him from hearing these words leak from his mouth.

"How?"

Scarecrow realized he didn't know how. He knew how it would happen if he were human, but... It wouldn't be the same for him. He shrugged blankly.

"Eh?" Jester poked the orb on the broomstick. "Did it wear off? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I... I don't know, I just. Don't know how. To do that." His arousal was fading. Having to think about how this all was supposed to work was pretty distracting.

"Oh." Jester scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I guess I'll just wing it. Is that ok?"

"Uh, y... yeah, I don't mind."

"Okay." He closed his eyes and paused for a moment. When he opened them, they were sultry once more, his smirk spreading as he got back into character. Scarecrow's arousal shot back up immediately, and they started from the top.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I've had a lot of free time today! Also it's rated M now._


	5. Chapter 5

The Jester was pretty confused at this point. How in the world would he have sex with Scarecrow? He didn't even know whether or not Scarecrow could ejaculate. Would it not lead anywhere? Jester was selfish, but he knew he'd feel bad if Scarecrow didn't get pleasure from the experience. So he decided to go with what seemed most logical.

Jester kicked Scarecrow's footholds, causing them to spring open. He ran his hands from Scarecrow's hips down to his ankles, which he lifted, but because they were so light he did it much too forcefully and knocked his elbows against his own ribs. Have you ever done that? It's very shocking. Jester grumbled and adjusted Scarecrow's legs so they draped over his shoulders. Jester's shoulders, I mean. He pulled Scarecrow's backside forward so that his seam was pressing against Jester's mouth.

Jester practically unhinged his jaw, trying to envelope Scarecrow's would-be junk, his hot breaths making Scarecrow whimper. Jester's tongue grazed so lightly along Scarecrow's seam that it was nothing more than a breeze of pressure, but it was enough for Scarecrow to gasp – the sound made Jester smile, his mouth closing against Scarecrow's seam, sucking ever so slightly. Scarecrow grinded against his closed mouth, his seam scraping along Jester's chin and nose desperately. Jester pulled away and glared at him.

"Whoa, hey, calm down! Relax! Don't _hump _my_ face_ like a _DOG_, what's WRONG with you?!"

"I don't think anything's wrong with me, I'm just really turned on right now," Scarecrow let out, still affected by the truth spell. He was pleasantly surprised that hearing the sentence aloud didn't upset him. "But I do want to fuck your nose, or your face in general." Hearing that one aloud did the trick.

"Jeez, okay. Not now, though. Let me do my thing. I have! AN IDEA! So SHUT UP!" He made a 'shush' face by putting his finger to his mouth.

Jester put Scarecrow's legs down and scurried over to his staff, muttering a spell to it. When he turned around, he had a small but sharp-looking dagger clenched in his fist. He skipped over to Scarecrow and hummed a little tune as he put his ankles around himself as before. Scarecrow's eyes bugged at the sight of the dagger.

"W-W-What are you going to use that for?"

"For my idea!"

Before Scarecrow could protest, he felt the blade being shoved between his thighs. He heard the splitting of seams and looked down in fright at Jester slicing him open with a carefree smile.

"H-Hey! I need that closed! My straw will fall out! What are you doing?!"

"Hm?" Jester looked up after admiring his handiwork for a moment. "You're not screaming in agony?"

"D- DID YOU WANT ME TO?"

Jester shrugged and nodded.

"Of course I'm not screaming, I'm a scarecrow, I can't feel pain! From things that would make someone bleed, anyway!" Scarecrow shook Jester back and forth with his legs. "Why would you do that?!"

Jester shrugged again. Then he rested his head against one of Scarecrow's knees thoughtfully.

"Hang on, strawman... You can feel pleasure, but not pain? Why the heck is that?"

The Scarecrow seized up, trying to keep his mouth from running, still due to the spell. "I... Well, I know just about everything, but... I don't know much at all about myself," he admitted, albeit quietly, with a hint of shame. "So. I don't know. I just have to be grateful for it."

"Aw. WELL THAT'S SAD!" Jester tossed his knife aside haphazardly and continued with his plan.


End file.
